We Can't Handle This
by BlueEyedWolves
Summary: After nearly three years of being able to read minds, Avalon Jones's parents decided to seek some supernatural help. They relocate to Beacon Hills in search for answers for their daughter's abilities. But Avalon soon discovers that telepathy is not so bizarre in the town of Beacon Hills. / Starts in 3B -includes Nogitsune!Stiles- / Rated M for language and brief sexual content
1. The Kindness of a Stranger

**Chapter 1: _The Kindness of a Stranger  
_**

**Song:** _Seven Devils_ by Florence + The Machine

* * *

Avalon Jones knew that there was a legitimate reason that her and her family was moving to some no-name town in the middle of nowhere Northern California. But that didn't mean that she didn't have the right to be upset about it.

She knew there was something wrong with her, that she was definitely _not_ normal.

_Maybe he can fix her_. Avalon heard her mother say in her head. _Maybe my baby girl can be normal._

That was the part about Avalon's _abilities_ that she hated the most—people thought of her as a freak, as an abomination. It's not like she could help it. It's not like she chose to be the way she is. It just _happened_. One day she was a completely normal teenager, and the next she could hear people's thoughts. And after three years of this _ability_ of hers, she could barely control it.

She was capable of tuning out the pounding words coming from others' minds by concentrating. She had to find something to hold on to, a single thought, an image in her mind. Most of the times it was her older brother. Michael had left for college four years prior, so he didn't know that his younger sister could read minds, but Avalon looked up to him.

Mrs. Jones pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School, dropping her daughter off for her first day at her new school. Avalon was incapable of driving herself; the thoughts of nearby drivers were far too distracting.

Neither one of the Jones women said a word as Avalon exited the vehicle.

Ever since her parents discovered that she could hear people's thoughts, they avoided contact with Avalon. They began treating her differently, like she was some sort of monster.

So Avalon hid herself from the world, not speaking to anyone unless they spark the conversation, unknowingly spiraling into a state of acute depression.

As she strode down the halls, she could hear the pounding voices echoing throughout her head. Avalon tried as hard as she could to focus, to concentrate on something—anything. But she could feel the glares of unknown students burning into her skin, hearing their cruel, judgmental thoughts. And she completely lost it. Her chest tightened. She rammed her side against a wall of lockers, leaning on them with all her weight. Avalon lifted her head up, looking up at the ceiling, trying to get ahold of her thoughts, desperately wanting the voices in her head to shut up, to just stop for two minutes so she could get her shit together. Her back slid down the lockers towards the floor, until she was eventually sitting on the ground, pulling her feet tight into her chest.

Breathing became more and more difficult. She was constantly gasping for air, and the thoughts that she was hearing were only making it worse.

_Is she dying?_

_Who the fuck is that?_

_I wonder if I should go help her._

_Woah, that girl needs to chill. _

Suddenly, two arms pulled her into her feet, leading her into a vacant classroom. The boy shut the door behind him.

"Just try to calm down," he told her, "What's your name?" Avalon struggled to speak, until she forced the words out of her mouth.

"A-Avalon," she gasped.

"Avalon, well, you're having a panic attack, okay?" he grasped her shoulders, pulling her closer and gazing intensely into her eyes. "I need you to relax, Avalon. Just focus really hard on taking a big, deep breath." And Avalon did. She focused real hard, but it was _not_ on breathing. She continued staring into his large brown eyes, watching as his pupils widened then contracted again, focusing on the silence. Wait—the silence. The sudden realization dumbfounded her. Usually when she tried to drown out the voices, she could still hear them very faintly in the background. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hear a single one of his thoughts.

"I-I can't hear you," she mumbled, her breathing steadying. The boy looked confused.

"What?"

"I cant hear you," she said louder, "Why can't I hear you?!" Her face reddened with frustration. That's all it took to turn it off? A _panic attack_? "What the fuck?! _Why can't I hear you?!_" she screamed.

"Avalon!" he shouted over her. "What do mean you can't _hear_ me?" The boy raised his eyebrows, suspicious of supernatural abilities. "What do you like read minds or something?" the boy said jokingly, but as Avalon's eyes widened, he realized that he must've beet onto something. "Wait you can _read minds_?"

"Apparently everyone's, but yours," she rolled her eyes. The boy's facial expression suddenly drastically changed. He looked as though he knew something, like he knew _too_ much, like he knew some horrifying, dark secret. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just…" he started, fiddling his thumbs, "I kind of temporarily died and then came back to life, losing a part of my soul. And now apparently there's some sort of door open in my mind. That might have something to do with it," he shrugged. Stiles couldn't believe he just told her all that. Barely anyone knew about that, and he'd just told a complete stranger.

Avalon observed as he had spoken rapidly, as if he was hesitant to tell her all this. She couldn't blame him if he was, though. That was kind of difficult to entirely believe. But then again, Avalon's abilities were unbelievable as well.

"That's… that's interesting," Avalon crossed her arms at her chest as she looked the boy suspiciously up and down. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Stiles," he introduced himself, realizing he had never told her his name. Avalon strolled toward the door, leaning her head against it, listening to the various thoughts of the passing teens. She then walked back over to Stiles, getting real close to him, concentrating on his thoughts. But it was no use. All she heard was silence.

"Huh…" she pondered aloud, "Not a damn thing." She looked over him again, examining him. "You sure are interesting, Stiles."

Avalon inched closer to him, her eyes scanning his face, observing every little feature. She was curious about him. And she wondered how similar they really were. She felt dead inside, and a part of his soul was lost. But before she had a chance to find out any more about Stiles, the bell sounded, signaling for students to get to class.

"What class do you have right now?" Stiles asked her. Avalon checked her arm, viewing the schedule she had written with black ink in order to remember it.

"Uh… World history. With Mr. Yukimura," she answered. Stiles began headed towards the door.

"Oh, good. I have that too." The two teens scurried down the hall to their first period class. "You're new, right?" Stiles asked, looking over at her as they walked.

"Yeah. I just moved here from Los Angeles," she informed. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for Avalon. She timidly entered the classroom.

"You must be Avalon. Welcome," a smiling Asian man, who Avalon assumed was Mr. Yukimura, greeted. "Please take a seat," he gestured to the vacant seat in the front row, and she did as he said. She rolled her eyes as she realized it was so _conveniently_ directly to the right of Stiles' seat.

"Alright, everyone. Let's get started," Mr. Yukimura announced, silencing the class. "We were just talking about interment camps and prisoners of war. There's a passage in our reading that I'd like to go over in more detail. Who would like to come up and read aloud for us?" Avalon had a feeling that was a rhetorical question. She hated how teachers would always end up hand-picking students when they "ask" for "volunteers". She felt sorry for the poor sucker that would get dragged into reading that boring passage aloud. "Mr. Stilinksi, how about you."

Stiles looked nervously at Mr. Yukimura, a shocked expression on his face. "oh, um… Maybe-maybe someone else could.."

"Everyone participates in my class, Mr. Stilinski," the teacher responded sassily.

"Okay…" Stiles shuffled in his seat, before getting up and approaching the podium. He glared nervously down at the book, looking almost as if he couldn't _see_ the words on the page, like he was trying to get a camera to focus. He squinted, intensely gripping the edge of the podium. His face began to shake, his eyes rolling slightly to the back of his head. He then looked back up at the class, seeming to be sort of dizzy. Stiles's entire body shook as he began taking deep huffs of air, like it was getting harder for him to breath.

_No, Stiles. No, not here. Not now!_ Avalon heard the tan boy's thoughts as he stood up, slowly beginning to walk towards Stiles.

"Stiles, you okay?" he asked. Stiles took a deep breath, grabbing the podium again as he lost his balance. The tan boy then rushed to aid Stiles.

"I should take him to the nurses office," he told Mr. Yukimura, and Mr. Y nodded. The tan boy then grabbed Stiles' arm, escorting him out of the classroom.

Avalon shot out of her seat. "I think I'll go make sure they're alright. You know how teenage boys can get," she fake joked as she rushed past the teacher before he could protest, exiting the classroom and following the two boys down the hall. They were headed to the boys bathroom. Avalon briefly debated whether or not she should follow them inside. But as she heard the tan boy's frantic thoughts, she decided to go for it. She stood quietly hidden in the doorway, watching as Scott attempted to calm Stiles down.

"Stiles! Stiles, look at me, man." Stiles stumbled about the room, grabbing ahold of the sink. "Is this a panic attack?" the tan boy asked. Stiles stared intensely at himself in the mirror, breathing heavily.

"It's a dream," he gasped, "It's a dream. This is just a dream!" Stiles told himself.

"No it's not," the tan boy said, desperately trying to calm his friend down, "This is real. You're here. You're here with me." Stiles continued to stare in the mirror, his breathing getting more and more ragged. "Okay, um. What do you do? I-I mean like, how do you tell if-if you're awake or dreaming?"

"Fingers. You-you count your fingers—you have extra fingers in dreams." His breathing continued to get worse and worse. Avalon didn't know whether to step in or not. She froze up, afraid she would make the wrong decision.

Scott held up one finger. "How many do I have?" But Stiles ignored his simple question at first. "Hey! Look at me. C'mon, Stiles. Look at my hands and count with me." Stiles dizzily turned around, glancing at the tan boy's hands. "One," the tan boy began counting.

"Two," Stiles said as the tan boy held up another finger. He then held up one more finger as Stiles glanced down at the floor.

"Keep going," the tan boy demanded. Stiles looked back up at his hand, "three… four…"

"Five," the tan boy said, encouraging Stiles.

"Six… seven…"

"Eight," he helped.

Stiles looked a tiny bit calmer each time he counted another finger. "Nine…" The tan boy put up the last finger, and Stiles looked as if a huge weight was lifted off his chest. "Ten," he said, breathing a bit easier.

"Ten," the tan boy reassured. Stiles then relaxed completely, his breathing becoming normal again. He leaned against the bathroom wall, sliding down it until he was sitting on the ground. "What the hell is happening to me?" he asked in disbelief, shaking his head. The tan boy crouched down to meet Stiles' eye level.

"We'll figure it out," he said positively, "You're going to be okay."

"Am I? Are you?". The tan boy didn't respond. "Scott, you can't transform. Allison's being haunted by her dead aunt. And I'm straight up losing my mind," he said bluntly. Avalon couldn't believe her ears. _Transform_? _Seeing dead people_? She couldn't help but to wonder if there was more messed up shit going on here than her bizarre mind powers.

"We can't do this," Stiles said softly, shaking his head, "We can't. We can't help Malia… We can't help anyone."

_You're right_, Avalon heard Scott think, but his words said otherwise.

"We can try," he said, staying optimistic in order to help his friend. "We can always try."

Avalon then cautiously slid open the door, walking slowly into the boys bathroom.

"Avalon," Stiles breathed. Scott looked confused. "Did-did you just see all that?"

She nodded, walking over to the boys.

"You guys sure are something else, you know that?" she smiled

_Who the hell are you? _Scott thought, _Shit, I hope she didn't hear the part about us going crazy._

"My name's Avalon," she said to Scott, "And yes, I did. I heard everything. And right now I want the same thing from you that you want from me—answers."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please be sure to review- good or bad, your opinions mean the world to me! Just informing you, I work on my writing ****everyday, so I'll try to get new chapters posted ASAP! But I'm currently working on three Teen Wolf stories (this is the only one I've posted so far). But please let me know what you think of it so far!**

**xx Izzy**


	2. Inclusion

**Chapter 2: **_**Inclusion**_

**Song: **_Sleepsong _by Bastille

* * *

"You—Wha—How'd… You could _read my mind_?" Scott asked in disbelief. Avalon nodded.

"Yes, I can read your mind. I can read everyone's mind… everyone's except Stiles, that is." She glanced at Stiles, her mind wandering about how he said he was losing his mind. But then she was snapped back to reality. "So, Scott. Wanna give me some answers now? What did Stiles mean when he said that you couldn't _transform_?"

She tried her hardest not to read Scott's mind, but it was too tempting, and his thoughts were just so loud. _Shit, now she knows I'm a werewolf._

"Werewolf?" she asked out loud.

"Damn it," Scott cursed under his breath. _Well there's no hiding it now_, he thought. _Wait, what was that? _His ears perked up, catching his attention.

"What was what?" Avalon asked about Scott's thought. But before he could answer he bolted out the door, down the hall, leaving Avalon alone with a disheveled Stiles.

"You okay?" she asked him. She shook her head, realizing how much of an idiotic question that was. "What am I saying, of course you're not okay. That was an extremely stupid question. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be," Stiles said, placing his hand on hers. "I'm fine."

* * *

Avalon watched with Scott at her side as Stiles walked down the hall with his dad. Apparently they were discussing some case on a missing girl, who was actually some sort of were-coyote.

"What happens if she does hurt someone?" Stiles asked his father. Sheriff Stilinski sighed.

"Most likely they'll have to put it down."

"Put _her_ down," Stiles corrected. "Dad, try not to forget, there's a _girl_ in there—one that you'll be killing." He gave his dad a look of disbelief. "Come on, you're not back to not believing, are you?" The sheriff stopped in his tracks, turning to face his son.

"You know what, there are a lot of things I don't believe yet." His voice lowered to a whisper, and Avalon had to creep closer in order to hear him. "But that doesn't bean anything and everything imaginable is suddenly possible. Now are you one hundred percent sure that this is a girl and not an animal—"

"_Yes_," Stiles snapped, his eyes widening. His face then relaxed, "Because Scott's sure." Both the Stilinski men looked over their shoulders at Scott, who was standing right beside Avalon.

_Who's the girl?_ She heard the Sheriff think.

Stiles then turned around, facing away from Scott. Then Scott shook his head.

"What's he saying?" Avalon asked.

_He's asking if I was listening_, Scott told her telepathically. That was the first time that anyone had purposely tried to speak to her using her abilities, and she found it insanely thrilling. A smile spread across Avalon's face.

Stiles and his father then left down the hall, and out of Scott and Avalon's sight.

"I don't know what exactly you two are up to, but I want in," she told Scott.

"No," he snapped. _We could really use her abilities to our advantage,_ she heard Scott's thought process, _No, Scott. You have to protect her. You have to make sure she stays safe_, he told himself.

"I can protect myself, Scott. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm kind of always one step ahead. I can tell what someone's going to do or say before they actually do it," she shook her head, "I need you to let me in, okay? I need to actually be involved in something to keep my mind off the fact that I'm driving myself _crazy_."

_I don't want you to get hurt_, Scott thought.

"You know, you and Stiles… You're my only friends. And you're also the only people who know about this whole mind reading thing besides my parents, who by the way think I'm some sort of messed up freak. And you get it. You actually _understand_ all this shit that's happening because in a way, you're messed up too. So please, Scott. _Please_ just let me help."

There was a brief moment of silence. And Avalon realized that it was actual _silence_. Scott must've not been thinking of anything at all, because she heard absolutely nothing.

"C'mon," Scott said as they rushed down the hall, following Stiles and his dad.

* * *

They were in the boys locker room, looking around for any clues that would help them turn a were-coyote back into a human again. Avalon stood behind Scott as he was crouched down, touching the ground, watching as one of the other new girls was speaking to her dad, which turned out to be Mr. Yukimura.

_What's she thinking?_ Scott asked.

Avalon honed into the girl's thoughts, smiling as she listened.

"She likes you," Avalon whispered before turning away.

"Hey," Stiles called. Scott stood up and met Avalon and Stiles against one of the walls of lockers, hidden from all surrounding people's sites of view. "I think I know what she was looking for." Stiles pulled out an old baby doll from his backpack.

_Malia's doll._ Scott shot Stiles a disapproving look. "You took the doll from the car."

"Yeah," Stilinski sighed, "I thought you could use it, you know? For like her scent or somehting"

_What are they doing with my daughter's doll?!_ Avalon heard an angry voice getting louder.

"Uh, Stiles—" she began to warn, but she was interrupted by the angry voice speaking aloud.

"Where did you get that?" the frazzled man entered the locker room, approaching the three teens. "Where did you find this?!" He snatched the doll from Stiles's grasp, a look of rage on his face. But the look soon settled into one of pain. "It belonged to my daughter," he spoke softly, his full concentration on the doll.

"Sorry boys… and _girl,_" Sheriff Stilinski pushed his was past the teens, reaching the man holding the doll. "Mr. Tate, I don't know how you heard about this—if you've got your own police scanner or what. But you can't be here," he confronted the man. The sheriff grabbed the man's torso, attempting to escort him from the building, but he stopped as he felt something under the man's coat. He lifted the material up, revealing a hand gun tucked into the waistband of the man's jeans.

"I have a permit," Mr. Tate defended himself.

"California schools are gun-free zones. Permit, or no permit. You need to leave, Mr. Tate. _Now_."

Mr. Tate continued to defend himself as the sheriff lead him out of the building.

"You find that animal," he demanded, "You find that _thing_!"

The concerned looks of the three teens shifted back and forth, from Scott to Stiles, to Avalon, back to Scott.

They needed to find that coyote before Mr. Tate.

* * *

"Xylazine," the veterinarian told the four teenagers, "It's a tranquilizer for horses." He set three small bottles of clear fluid on the table. "For a were-coyote, expected to work within seconds. I only have three," he warned, "so whoever's shooting needs to be a damn good shot."

"Allison's a perfect shot," Scott said.

"Well, she—she used to be." The boy in the scarf was being pessimistic.

"She can do it," Scott, on the other hand was being overly optimistic.

"If we manage to find the thing."

"Okay what is the point of him?" Stiles asked, pointing to the boy in the scarf, "Seriously, what—what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity, and the scarf. What's up with the scarf anyway—it's sixty-five degrees out."

The boy in the scarf smiles maliciously, trying to keep his cool.

"Who's the girl?" he asked, looking over at Avalon.

_She sure is hot_

"Oh, keep it in your pants, Scarf Boy! Don't you have a girlfriend?" she snapped. Scarf Boy glared at her suspiciously. "Yes, we get it, I can read minds. Let's not get off topic here. We were talking about the were-coyote, remember?"

Scarf Boy shrugged it off, getting back on topic.

"Look, maybe I'm asking the question no one here wants to ask. Alright, how do we turn a coyote back into a girl, when she hasn't been a girl for eight years." It came out more like a rhetorical question. But Scott seemed to have an answer.

"I can do it," he said. Everyone seemed confused.

"You can?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah, remember the night that Peter trapped us in the school?"

_I turned when he howled_. Avalon didn't really know what exactly they were talking about but it was better than having no plan at all.

"He was able to make you turn using just his voice," Avalon finished Scott's explanation.

"This is a were-coyote. Who knows if it'll even work if you can find someone who can teach you?" the vet asked.

"That's why you called Derek first," Stiles put two and two together.

_He was supposed to teach me_, Scott thought, _I can try it on my own. I _have_ to do it on my own_.

"You can try it, Scott," Avalon attempted to encourage him.

"But right now, I'm too scared to even change into just a werewolf."

Stiles scratched his face, thinking. "We need a real alpha."

_Thanks, Stiles. Real encouraging._

"You know what I mean, an alpha that can do alpha things, you know. An alpha who can get it going, you know. An alpha who can get it—"

"—Up," Scarf Boy chimed in. Stiles raised his arm in agreement, nodding. Avalon's eyes widened at the analogy.

"Great, I'm an alpha with _performance issues_." For some strange reason, he looked over at Avalon when he said that, her face turning beet red.

"Is there anyone else besides Derek who could help?" the vet asked, making things less… uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't trust Peter," Scarf Boy said.

"Maybe the twins?" Stiles suggested.

"They're not alphas anymore," the vet corrected.

_Right, because Jennifer beat them so bad, they almost died. And now they're only Betas._

"Who's Jennifer? And why do I have this feeling like she's not alive anymore…?" Avalon asked, wanting a complete understanding of what happened before she moved here.

"We'll fill you in later, Av, okay?" Stiles told her, "But what if they know how to do it?" he asked, referring to the twins.

"Nobody's seen them for weeks," Scott said.

"Well, actually, that's uh, not totally true."

_Lydia_.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was definitely one of the least interesting, but please don't become disinterested! After they find Malia, things get really juicy with Avalon, so please hang in there! I wrote this right when I woke up this morning because I was so pleased with how many people followed and favorited the story :) you guys are awesome.**

**I also wanted to point out that Teen wolf, as well as the overall storyline belongs to Jeff Davis—the only thing that is truly mine is the OC and the relationships she forms with the other characters :)**

**Thanks a ton,**

**Izzy xx ;)**


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